


Patchwork

by nix_this



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nix_this/pseuds/nix_this
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs.<br/>2. For each song, write something inspired by the song. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either.<br/>3. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.</p><p>I couldn't resist :) Music and Star Trek kind of make my life these days. If you're looking for cohesion, it's not here. I just hit play and wrote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchwork

  
**Running Up That Hill – Placebo (4:57)**

His breath was chugging in his lungs as he surged forward, desperation driving his legs to lift and keep climbing. He could no longer hear the sounds of pursuit, though his own harsh pants cast echoes in his ears – drowning out the world around him. His fingers flexed instinctively around the ragged red fabric, clutching his hard won prize closer to his chest.

_ So close. Almost there _

He could actually _see_ the haphazard cluster of rock that marked his goal. If he could only make it there, he would be safe.

_ Oh god, Bones was right. I need to go on a diet _

A pale yellow blur started in his periphery. He spun to face it and was borne to the ground by a charging Chekov connecting solidly with his gut.

His breath whooshed out of him as he hit the ground hard.

"I vin Keptin! I have captured ze flag!"

  
**Extracurricular – At The Drive-In (4:01)**

  
It hurt. A lot. Except where it didn't.

It was actually those curiously numb points that were worrying him right now. He could see the bone jutting from his shin from his prone position and all other experiences indicated that it should hurt like fucking hell. He tried to shift, a vague sense of urgency prickling through the haze of shock.

Nothing from below his knee but HOLY SWEET JESUS FUCK was his knee ever unhappy.

When the white spots cleared from his eyes he turned his head towards the wreckage of the Galileo. They'd gone down hard. He groaned as he searched the twisted ruins of the shuttle for any sign of survivors.

"Hush Jim, I've got you."

  
**Start Wearing Purple – Gogol Bordello (3:43) **

  
The Hurgs were great, any civilization that greeted him with open arms and flowing liquor were just fine and dandy in his book. The reception was good enough that he could even bear the hideous ceremonial robe foisted on him with equanimity, especially since Bones hadn't stopped scowling since he'd been wrestled into his.

Bones looks _adorable_ when he's scowling, which is lucky since it seems to be his default expression.

"Damn it Jim, stop grinning. You're freaking me out."

"Crushed purple velvet's a good look for you Bones"

Bones harrumphed and shot a glare at Jim before shaking his head and muttering something about being a doctor and not a fucking blueberry.

_ Adorable _

  
**Take No Rogues – Seth Lakeman (4:00) **

"We have got to stop meeting like this," Jim grinned over his shoulder at Spock as they rounded another corner, moments ahead of the _literal_ cavalry.

The Vulcan merely lifted a brow in elegant disbelief. "Indeed Captain. Perhaps if you were not so eager to seduce _every_ delegate at these functions, it would not be necessary to launch such a great number of rescue operations."

They finally reached the cobbled square and Jim laughed easily as he brought his communicator to his mouth. "Two to beam up, Scotty. Now would be excellent."

Forty men on horseback charged through the streets and arrived at the square in time to see their quarry dissolve in the transporter beam, Kirk's laughter echoing in the empty air.

**This Is Radio Clash – The Clash (4:10)**

"Absolutely not." The Captain's voice was flat and his stare was level.

The anger wasn't blatant from his visage alone, Jim had grown adept at self control since he'd assumed command of the Enterprise. He could sense it however, in the absence of warmth along the breadth of their bond and see the lack of humour twinkling behind blue eyes.

The Orion delegate seemed taken aback as well.

"You refuse to treat with us? Your masters at Starfleet will not be pleased."

The Captain's eyes narrowed and he stepped forward until he was inches away from the Orion pirate, close enough to kiss if it weren't for the fury that was beginning to thread it's way into his voice.

"My _masters_," Jim spat the words with deliberate disgust, "will have much to answer for when I report this proposed alliance to the Federation."

Spock deemed it prudent to rest a hand on Jim's tensed shoulder to belay the strike being prepared.

He allowed his distaste to colour his tone.

"The Federation does not condone slavery of sentient beings."

  
**Bone Machine – The Pixies (2:52)**

"You're so pretty when you're unfaithful to me."

The words panted into his ear in a tight Southern drawl made Jim writhe against the body pressing him into the wall. Bones had him pinned, pitting his compact and often surprising strength against his. The talented hands were working at the ties to his trousers, teasing his straining erection with each brush of fabric.

"I can still taste her on you. You're a dirty whore aren't you Jim boy?"

Whatever reply he could have made was lost in the fierce wet heat as Bones' mouth assaulted his. A clash of teeth and tongue and spit fighting to rhythm of the fist milking his cock until his vision went white.

  
**Dead End – Sam Roberts (3:38) **

He supposed he should be happy. Instead he felt kind of empty. Deflated.

The ingredients for elation were all there, he'd gotten drunk. He'd gotten laid. He'd even won the fight for a change.

Just. Just. What was the point?

Maybe Frank had been right. Maybe he was the dead end on the Kirk family tree.

He scowled against the thought, lips twisting in a half grimace half smirk as tossed back the rest of the whiskey. He wouldn't give into this _fucking_ pathetic melancholia. He signaled the bartender for another shot and turned back to the crowd, allowing the din of the club into his awareness again.

His eyes latched onto a stunning woman in a short red dress sauntering up to the bar. He let his lips curl up in appreciation as he heard her list off a rather impressive list of beverages.

He leaned back to take her in and smiled his best cocky smile.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman."

  
**Rats!Rats!Rats! – Deftones (4:01)**

The voices around him were scraping against his brain. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He looked down at the too still bodies of his best friend and his First Officer.

One of the aliens stepped forward and gestured to the pulsing rings of electricity surrounding them.

"You can only save one. You must decide."

He shook his head, refusing to look up into the cold marble face.

"Choose one or lose them both."

His hand twitched towards his phaser.

"I'm a Doctor dammit, not God."

  
**Drawing Curtains – Buck 65 (3:58)**

He thought their first time would be an explosion of passion, a collision of wills and strength, each of them straining to achieve a victory even here. Forceful and fierce, he wouldn't have been surprised if it sprung out of anger.

Instead, it's slow and pulsing and erotic as hell. Spock is gentle with him, almost reverent. His elegant hands trace his stomach and dance along the outline of bone and hard ridges of muscles. He is so focused on breaking Jim with kindness that even the air takes on the weight of secrets. Jim finds himself almost afraid to gasp his pleasure for fear of shattering the moment.

He shudders when Spock ghosts a finger along his length and wonders how much deeper this can get. He meets the dark eyes, almost black in the low light of his cabin and realizes that he could be falling forever.

  
**Pity The Man With The Fast Right Hand – the smalls (4:08)**

As far as prisons went, this one wasn't too bad. He'd certainly been in worse.

If only he could remember what he's done to earn the posh accommodations. His own cell even, and it was clean to boot.

He looked down at his hands and pressed them tight against his thighs to still the tremors.

This wasn't good.

_What have I done._

A scuff snapped his head up from his contemplation of the cool concrete tiles. Bones is there, at the bars of his cell looking at him with an open expression of loss and betrayal.

** _What have I done? _ **   



End file.
